Toastmasters Humorous
Speech Competition
This speech won second place in our club for the 2001
Humorous Speech Competition.
Time: 5 to 7 minutes
Snip, snip!
I'm going to tell you the sad story of my Uncle Dan
Druff. Uncle Dan was a great collector. Some people
collect stamps. Some collect rare coins. Uncle Dan
collected toenail clippings.
It all began when he married his childhoodhood
sweetheart, Kitty Litter. On their wedding night, as
Kitty prepared for bed, Dan sat on the edge of the bed
and trimmed his toenails. Snip, snip! When Kitty slid
between the sheets, something dug into her tender flesh.
It was Dan's toenail clippings.
"Dan Druff!" spluttered Kitty. "Can't you put your
toenails somewhere else?"
So Dan found a glass jar and swept all the toenail
clippings into it.
Next morning, Kitty was about to dispose of the toenail
clippings, but Dan stopped her - just in time.
"You can't throw them out," he protested. "They are a
reminder of our first night together - a symbol of our
love."
Kitty was touched and agreed to keep them - along with
the wedding serviettes, the telegrams and chicken
wishbones.
But it didn't end there. A month later, Dan trimmed his
toenails again, and used one of the longer clippings to
pick his teeth with. "These are a reminder of our first
month together, he told Kitty, as he swept them into the
jar."
And so it continued. Dan saved his toenail clippings to
remind him and Kitty of their first down-payment, the
first time the toilet blocked up, and eventually, their
first argument.
Kitty said she didn't mind Dan keeping his toenails in a
jar, but why did he have to keep them on the coffee
table in the living room. She was tired of the strange
looks she received when people visited - specially when
they mistook the jar for the sugar bowl.
Now Dan was a reasonable man, but on this issue he
was adamant. Other men kept trophies, he explained,
women cluttered their houses with knick-knacks. What
was wrong with a bloke displaying his stuff?
Kitty stormed out of the house and Dan sat in his chair
and cut his toenails. Snip, snip, Ow!
In his anger, he had cut too far and snipped the top off
his big toe. Dan hobbled into the bathroom, to look for
bandages, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
While he was rummaging through the medicine cabinet,
Kitty returned, saw the blood on the floor and screamed.
She thought Dan had been murdered.
Dan rushed out of the bathroom as Kitty dropped to the
floor in a dead faint. Picking her up, he carried her into
the bedroom and lay her on the bed.
To make her more comfortable, Dan removed her shoes.
That's when he noticed that Kitty's toenails needed
trimming.
Snip, snip. Kitty recovered consciousness and found
Dan working on her toenails. It was the last straw. Kitty
yelled and kicked Dan right where it hurt.
Dan sprang back, bumped against the coffee table and
knocked the jar of toenail clippings to the floor.
The jar shattered and the floor was strewn with glass
and toenail clippings. There was a hushed silence as
Dan and Kitty surveyed the damage.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," said Kitty. "I'll sweep up the
mess."
"No," said Dan quickly. He found two jars then he knelt
down and picked out the toenail clippings. He put them
in one jar. Then he picked up the tiny shards of glass
and placed them in the other jar.
"I'll throw out the glass pieces," said Kitty.
Dan was shocked. "You can't do that! These are a
reminder of our first row. They symbolise how fragile a
relationship can be?
He ducked as Kitty added to his collection by hurling a
glass vase at his head. The shattered glass panel in the
door as she slammed it on her way out was a reminder
of the end of their marriage.
Poor Uncle Dan Druff! He went a bit flakey after that.
He lived alone - no one called to visit because of all the
broken glass and crockery piled up in the front yard.
But when he passed away, he left me his most precious
collection - his toenail clippings. I keep them in a big jar
on my coffee table.
And I can hardly wait to get home tonight to trim my
toenails!
Toastmasters Humorous
Speech Competition
This speech won second place at the Area Conference
Humorous Speech Competition. October,2000
Time: 5 to 7 minutes
Every Cat in the
Twilight's Gray
I didn't know what I was letting myself in for - when I
took that cat to the vet!
When the stray cat first came to my door, I said to my
Uncle Jack. "I'll feed him so he will trust me, then I'll
take him to the vet and get him fixed."
Uncle Jack looked at me. "Remind me never to have
dinner at your place," he said.
But the cat continued to eat at my place until at last he
would let me pick him up and pat him.
"What is your name?" I asked as I rubbed his ears.
The cat looked up at me and purred "Mo," he said.
Mo. He'd told me his name was Mo! This was a
wonderful, magical talking cat! My other cats Huckle
and Butterscotch-Brickle had never attempted to say
their names.
Uncle Jack was not impressed. "Every cat in the
twilight's gray," he grunted. It was one of his favourite
sayings. I think it meant that basically we are all really
the same. And every cat looks gray in the twilight.
"You'd better see about getting him fixed." My Uncle
said.
Uncle Jack helped me put Mo in the carry cage. It
wasn't easy. He turned into a mad thing, screaming,
scratching and biting. - (The cat, that is)
But we had no trouble driving through heavy traffic. Mo
wailed, "WooOOooo,WooOOooo." And all the cars
pulled over to let us through.
"What do you call him?" asked the vet.
"Uncle Jack," I answered. "Oh - you mean the cat? His
name's Mo - never mind what I call him." I opened the
carry-cage.
Mo shot out -with claws spread like fishhooks.
The vet grabbed and missed as Mo dashed under the
table. I dived after him. So did the vet. We bumped
heads and fell to the floor. Mo raced around the room,
then climbed up the curtains and clung there howling. A
haze of gray cat hairs hung in the room. The vet
managed to pull him down. He was spitting and snarling.
(The cat, that is.)
The vet placed him on the examining table, and he
promptly wet all over the table. - (The cat, that is.)
And then...somebody opened the door.
Uncle Jack yelled as the cat hurtled between his legs
and rushed through the door. Dogs barked in the waiting
room as the cat tore past them into the night.
I raced after him. Past the dogs. Across the paddock.
Over the fence. Where was he? I'd never find him in the
dark. I called him. "Mo, Mo!" Cars roared past. What if
he was run over?
And then... a slight sound came from the porch of a
house nearby. I rushed up the stairs. There he was,
crouched in the corner.
I lunged. "Gotcha!"
"Yeeoooow!" went the cat.
The door swung open...and out rushed this
his
enormous woman - in a sheer pink nightie. She looked
like a bunch of pink balloons.
"Hey," she yelled. "What are you doing with that cat?"
I clutched the cat tightly and raced back over the fence,
across the paddock. Car horns tooted. The woman was
close on my heels, yelling and screaming. She had
almost caught me up as I rushed back into the vet's
waiting room. There was Uncle Jack... with Mo in his
arms! I couldn't believe my eyes.
Uncle Jack couldn't believe his eyes as the woman in
her flimsy nightie bounced in through the door.
"That's my cat!" she shrieked. She snatched the cat from
my arms and glared at me. "It doesn't even look like
your ugly cat."
I was lost for words. I looked desperately at Uncle Jack
and found inspiration.
"Well," I shrugged. "Every cat in the twilight's gray."
We drove home in grim silence. I was covered in
scratches. So was Uncle Jack.
And the worst of it is, he still hasn't had his operation. (The cat, that is.)
Toastmasters Humorous
Speech Competition
This speech won second place in our club for the 1998
Humorous Speech Competition.
Time: 5 to 7 minutes
Guess Who's Coming to
Dinner?
When we kids, dinner at our place was always a chaotic
affair. My mother used to despair of ever completing a
meal without one of us spilling something all over the
table. For some reason, my aunt was reluctant to bring
the new man in her life to meet us. Finally, my mother
persuaded her to invite him to dinner, and my aunt took
great pains to instruct us in our etiquette.
Now, the morning before his visit, my sister and I had
had a scientific debate over whether we were any bigger
immediately after a meal. To find out we decided to
measure our girth before and after the meal. Anyway,
by the time our visitor arrived, we were perfect little
models of decorum.
My aunt watched us apprehensively during dinner, but
we were on our best behavior. It wasn't until we were
halfway through dessert that my sister with a mouthful
of icecream, suddenly spluttered, "Hey, we forgot to
measure our bellies before we sat down!"
My father groped in his pocket for a handkerchief to
wipe the icecream from his eye and pulled out a sock.
He stared at it in bemusement before knocking over the
milk jug. That seemed to be the signal for everyone to
resume their true personalities. Things were back to
normal.
Dinnertime had become almost civilised by the time my
third sister Jany was born. It now became a circus with
Jany as ringmaster. She refused to take a spoonful of
food unless everyone else took a mouthful at the same
time. At first we cooperated because it was funny and
cute, but we soon became victims of a tyrant tot. All
eating and drinking had to be perfectly synchronised
with our eyes on our conductor in the highchair. Dinner
guests usually found the performance highly
entertaining specially when our pet chickens rushed in
to pounce on the scraps of food that Jany flung from her
highchair.
Jany was about 3 when the minister came to dinner. He
was a nice man, but known for his longwinded prayers.
While he was saying grace, we heard this plop, plop,
plop up the stairs.
"Oh," said Jany, "That pesky chook's in again."
She climbed down off her chair and yelled, "Shoo,
shoo!" The ministered went on praying. The hen ran
round and round the table, squawking and flapping it's
wings with Jany after it, yelling "Shoo, shoo!" until
finally it ran outside. By the time the minister had
finished praying, a haze of feathers hung in the air but
Jany was quietly sitting in her place, with her hands
clasped and an angelic expression on her face.
Another day, when Jany was eating a fried egg it
suddenly slid off her plate and disappeared below the
tabletop. She was quite unperturbed. "It's alright," she
said. "I caught it between my knees." My younger
sisters were still going through an awkward stage when
it was my turn to bring home someone special. Now I
knew what trepidations my aunt must have had.
I warned Deryck about my family, but nothing could
have prepared him for the welcome he received. My
mother had prepared one of her famous roast dinners.
Unfortunately, as she was taking the baking dish out of
the oven, it slipped and some of the fat spilled onto the
floor, just as Deryck arrived at the front door. As I
rushed to meet him, I slipped in the grease and slid
through the hall on my bottom to land at his feet.
Order was soon restored and we sat down to dinner. I
needn't have worried about my little sisters. Their
manners were impeccable. Then in came the cat with an
enormous grasshopper. Deryck had just picked up his
knife and fork to tackle his dinner, when the
grasshopper suddenly flew through the air and landed
on his plate. We all gasped, but before anyone could
move, the cat pounced on top of the grasshopper, right
in the middle of Deryck's dinner. Baked potatoes and
gravy flew all over the tablecloth.
That broke the ice, I guess. Deryck fitted right into our
crazy family and we were married later in the year. So it
just shows it best to act naturally.
Oh, were you wondering what became of the man my
aunt brought to meet us? We never saw him again. Just
as well. He wasn't our type.